


kiss, kill

by alolandugtrios



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ambiguous Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Angst, Casphardt Week (Fire Emblem), Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Kisses, M/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), War time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 00:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21347473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alolandugtrios/pseuds/alolandugtrios
Summary: kiss at dusk, kill at dawn.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	kiss, kill

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is late for the wartime prompt which i think was tuesday but just take it. it's linhardt's birthday so happy birthday to my husband. xoxo this feels really rushed out but i've been going through awful writer's block and i'm surprised i even churned this out.

Linhardt couldn’t enjoy this when he was eleven and oblivious. Not when he was sixteen and stupid. _Definitely_ not eighteen and _in love_.

No, it’s twenty-two and torn by war — that’s when he gets to do this. Kiss his lover, knowing each and every night may be their last. Knowing that battle may rip Caspar away from him. The thought propels him forward for more, lips trembling from the weight of his mind and the unknown of the days to come.

It’s the dead of the night; they only know that from the color of the sky from behind the curtain and the chill of the air that creeps in. Caspar is like Linhardt’s own personal heater, though. He’s always hot, and so he is bare aside from his underwear and a blanket loosely draped around his shoulders and arms. Linhardt sits in front of him, not all that much better off, only donning a large slightly worn out night shirt. Caspar inches closer, wrapping his arms and the blanket at Linhardt’s waist while pulling himself forward with his heels, legs raised and on either side of Linhardt’s body. It does wonders to keep the healer warm, but so do the kisses.

Long, cold fingers glide up Caspar’s cheek. There’s a hitch in his breath from the chill, which Linhardt takes the chance to kiss him while his breath is shortened. Not once, twice, or even thrice. It’s a little one-sided, but it gets the point across to the warrior. Caspar’s bright blue eyes are wide open in surprise until it all falls into place, until he kisses him back with the vigor of his fighting spirit.

“I _hate_ this,” Linhardt murmurs between kisses, desperately diving in for more; _anything_ to drown the intrusive thoughts.

Fight. Bleed. _Kill_. Do it over and over.

“I know,” Caspar whispers back, voice cracking and barely audible. And he does know — knows well and good that it’s not him Linhardt has the problem with; the quiver in Linhardt’s voice would have told him had he not already been aware.

Linhardt tries his best to dull the pain of what may come — what hopefully _never_ comes — by suffocating the both of them with more affections. Caspar doesn’t say no, gladly and sadly taking what’s given to him and returning them in full as he does each night before battle and each night after.

And deep down, the thought scares him too. Caspar isn’t as upfront about it as Linhardt is; if one of them isn’t positive, then what would become of them? He would never lie to Linhardt about his fears though, no. He could never do that to him and even if he wanted to, Linhardt knows how to sniff out his fibs before they leave his mouth.

“…Hey, Linhardt,” Caspar interrupts, pulling away enough so that Linhardt can’t cut him off with another kiss. It doesn’t stop him from resting his forehead against the warrior’s, craving touch of any kind.

“Listening.”

“You remember our promise, right?”

“I remember it very well, Caspar.” To make it out to the other side of this war — _together_.

“I wanna add on to that,” Caspar whispers, the determination in his softened voice not falling on deaf ears. “I want to see to it that…you don’t have to fight again.”

Linhardt lets the words settle in his mind. Never fighting again… It truly is the dream of the scholar, only a touch beneath napping the days away in leisure. And just above having sweets for each meal. “That’s a _daunting_ task to take on, Caspar.”

“It’s one I _want_ to take on, Linhardt. And…it’s not just for you, it’s for _everyone_! I mean, I mostly had you in mind when I thought about it, but that’s beside the point.”

“That is a future worth making the effort for.” The scholar musters a soft laugh, wears a smile that Caspar is happy to see on his face again, no matter how short-lived. The warrior’s face turns a soft pink. “I won’t let you take it on alone, though.”

Caspar pauses. “...I don’t want you to have more blood on your hands, Linhardt.”

That first kill was the hardest. The scream, the _blood_ splattered against his pale skin, the smell of the fire burning and melting _flesh_ — and the limp body without soul or breath left within it that lay upon the ground right after. All at the fault of Linhardt von Hevring.

It’s been years since that kill. Many more came after it. And who knows how many more will come before they do see this war’s end. His stomach still turns at the sight of blood and in some _sick_ way, he’s grown accustomed to it. Whether it’s seeing it over and over again or just knowing it’s a fact of war that has him near _desensitized_ to it, he’ll never know; it’s not an investigation he wishes to entertain.

The whole idea of becoming even _remotely_ used to blood is **repulsive**.

He draws in a deep breath, holding it a moment before releasing heavily and ragged.

“…Linhardt.” His name is whispered by the warrior with such softness, concern. His warm hand against the scholar’s cheek is comforting, enough to reach in, pull Linhardt from the depths of the pool of the enemy’s blood he feels himself sinking into.

The scholar swallows — hard. “Can we just...go back to earlier, Caspar? …Please…” Back to those kisses with trembling lips, scared and hastened breaths. But Caspar doesn’t stop him. If it will make him feel better, then it’s what he’ll do. Kiss him until he’s had his fill, kiss him until he forgets why he started, kill anyone that would dare to take Linhardt away from him.

Linhardt always was one for running away from his problems.


End file.
